One of the reasons why I rode a singlespeed for a decade was because I had grown to hate derailleurs. There is nothing worse than being out on a ride, whether a speedy commute to work, a trip to meet a friend at the coffee shop, or on a long climb while mountain biking up Syncline in the Columbia Gorge, and then hear those dreaded noises ... Clank! Pop! Pow! The sound of the derailleur in rebellion. With so many moving parts and a stretching cable it seems like we’re always tinkering with our derailleurs. Or there are those moments when a rock or log rips our beloved 11-speed derailleur clean off.
As much as we push the wondrous effects of coffee before you hop on your bike what do you do when you're fully caffeinated but motivation to ride isn't there yet? Simply put, you don't "feel" like riding today. What do you do?
The way you brew your coffee is also a thin-slice into your personality. Do you doubt? If you tell me how you brew your coffee I can begin telling you a little bit about who you are. No, this is not like the middle-aged magician dude at the carnival guessing random things. So tell me ... how do you brew your coffee?
As we're smack dab in the middle of Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and the rest of the shopping spree known as Christmas there are articles upon articles that decry our over-consumption. This time of the year brings out this madness. Look sweetie, a new Lexus! This weekend in particular brings out the worst in the human race as ordinary grandmothers-turned-professional-wrestlers give forearm shivers to unlucky shoppers who're about to grab that microwave she was reaching for.
Unless you live in arid sunny climates and/or southern latitudes then winter is a real thing. Depending on where you live "winter" can mean different things ... from meters of snows to unrideable rain-saturated trails. Either way, riding can come to a screeching halt. While winters in the Pacific Northwest are generally wet and dark last winter was snowy which meant we weren't able to ride for months at our favorite local trails. So what do you do when the weather turns bad and the trails are unrideable?
I moved away from the desert this year ... two hours north and 3,000 feet higher. There hasn't been a single regret. Daylight brings unspeakable vistas. Night reveals new clarity previously shrouded by the light pollution of my former city. The air in this new place stinks of adventure.
